


Styled

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 14:10:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21100763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Tilly gets her “Captain Killy” haircut.





	Styled

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fair warning I haven’t seen all of Discovery yet.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“It looks silly, doesn’t it?” Tilly sighs, turning out of Michael’s grip to face the mirror mounted on the wall behind them. It was necessary to synthesize, since she could hardly have a holographic version of herself standing where Michael needs to be. It probably would’ve been easier without any mirrors at all. At least they’ve finally finished, so Michael doesn’t have to try and coral Tilly back into place again. 

She doesn’t put the scissors back just yet. Instead, she waits for Tilly to stop fidgeting, then lifts a hand to cup her cheek and turn her back around. Tilly’s breath catches, her frantic movements going still as Michael slowly examines her. It wasn’t easy to tame her naturally curly hair, but it’s perfectly straight now—smooth and silky. The dye job turns her ends blonde near the bottom, washing fluidly into the rust-red sheen of her roots. The jagged cuts over her shoulder, different angles and different lengths on either side, frame her rounded face. They take away some of the softness, adding hard lines and a harsher edge. In a word, when Tilly isn’t ruining it with a smile or stuttering movement, she looks almost _badass_.

She definitely will when her armour goes on. ‘Captain Killy’ looks like the main villain of a titillating comic book, and Sylva Tilly’s halfway there. Michael traces the comb through her side swept bangs to be sure there are no strands out of place. Spilling over with nervous energy, Tilly presses, “Do I? Look silly, I mean?”

“No,” Michael answers simply, and that should be that, but of course, it isn’t. Tilly slumps down in exaggerated relief, unintentionally evading the comb again.

“Phew. But are you sure? It just feels like it’s so... not me.”

“You look good, Cadet.”

“But... just _good_?” Tilly’s brow knits together, eyes going wide and pleading. It melts through a part of Michael that she tries to keep frosted over.

In the privacy of their shared quarters, Michael gives in and says, “You look _hot_, Tilly.”

That does the trick. Tilly’s face lights up like a star. “Really?” Michael’s not sure she’s ever seen her roommate look so happy. And it was ridiculously easy to do. The next thing she knows, she’s got an armful of happy human. Tilly hugs her tightly and doesn’t say anymore but doesn’t have to. Michael knows just how much her opinion means to Tilly. 

For a brief moment, Michael lets herself savour that contact. She embraces Tilly’s warmth and gentleness and the safety of her own crew before they plunge into the darkness. Then she gently pushes back and reminds Tilly, “There’s no hugging in the Empire.”

“Right,” Tilly breathes, straightening up. She’s still beaming, and even with her interesting new hairstyle, she couldn’t look any less like a tyrant. 

But Michael has faith in her, so they leave to get her new uniform.


End file.
